Bleu Jane starts in a confused flurry of percussion, as if to scramble your brain in order to clear it in preparation for what’s to come. After a piano flourish the song settles down into a slow-burn David Lynchian number, complete with Sagot’s deep, mesmerizing gallic voice. It’s such a thrill that you think surely this is the prime cut and there’s nowhere else to go. Think again.

Sagot seems to pack in a career’s worth of styles into one album. But he’s not fucking around here — he kills it, no matter what type of music. Whether he’s crooning lounge-like in the South American favoured “Bleu corail electrique” or lending glam vocals to the mysterious “Vacille” he simply owns whatever he touches. And there is a cohesion of sorts here; a futuristic post-surf, post-punk, crazy lounge vibe. But it comes in many forms, from the kosmische/electropop of “Ombres porter” to the electric (neo) world music of “Desordre et desordre” and many places in between. It’s exciting, original, and just a little strange.

There may be an added advantage here if you are francophone. Frankly, however, we don’t really need a translation. We get it.

About The Author

Mark is keenly interested in alternative music of all stripes. Noise pop, art rock, drone metal, shoegaze, Albanian folk music – the genre is not as important as how original it is. Fact is, Mark needs to hear innovation or else he loses interest pretty quickly.
Current location: Southern Vancouver Island